This makes me laugh. “So…what do ya say? Seriously, you gonna come for my birthday?”
“Well, I wanted to keep it a surprise, but I actually think I’m gonna be there before then.”
I squeal so loudly, Cookie turns and looks at me. “Really? I miss you so much, babe.”
“Ah, not as much as I miss you.” Luke’s voice gets lower; I can picture his hand moving down to his zipper.
The thought sends shivers zinging over me.
Not that we’ve gone all the way. We haven’t. I may be wicked in my own way, but I still want to wait until I’m truly eighteen to take that step. If I even want to make it then.
But I love kissing Luke, doing other things with him I shouldn’t be doing, like taking off my shirt, letting him kiss me all over, and kissing him all over right back.
“You just gonna show up, then? Unannounced?”
“Don’t spoil the surprise any more than you already have.”
I can hear the grin in his voice.
After the call, I cluck at Cookie, who sidles up to the porch so I can mount her.
We trot down the lane, and then I nudge her with the heels of my boots, signaling for her to canter. Once we reach the highway, she breaks into a gallop again, the wind blasting my hair, cooling the sweat from it.
I want to ride all the way to Dallas. Ican, I think; this road would eventually spill onto the freeway that leads there, but there’d be too many cars for Cookie, too much commotion.
I could hop a train like a bum the way I did that one time in Missouri. We lived in a small depressing town, and one Friday, I hopped the freight train to St. Louis. But once I got off, meandered around, I became intimidated by all the busyness of the big city—I was only thirteen—so I called Pa to come pick me up. He wassodisappointed in me, but maybe also kind of proud?
No, I should wait for Luke to come visitme.
The ground on the shoulder beneath Cookie’s feet is marshy, the thundering of her hooves muted by the boggy soil. Only the sound of cars whizzing past fills my ears.
When Cookie descends into a basin, I lean down into her spine even more. I hear a car buzz up behind us. Instead of soaring past, like the other vehicles, this one slows until it’s keeping pace with me and Cookie.
What the hell?
I twist my neck to the left, very slightly, to avoid changing Cookie’s course. It’s an apple-red Beamer. A convertible, but the cream-colored top is up.
I can’t make out who the driver is. All I see is a blur of blond hair, and I wonder,Is this person lost, looking for directions?
But they’re not rolling their window down, so I bring my attention back to Cookie. “You’re a good girl,” I say, stroking her neck, trying to keep her calm, keepmyselfcalm, because the car is sticking right next to us. Inching closer. I feel as if I’m being squeezed between the bimmer and the wooden fence line that runs along the highway, even though there’s still plenty of space.
But alarm seeps over me; the taste of metal fills my mouth.
I shoot another look at the driver, who revs the engine loudly before peeling away.
At the commotion, Cookie spooks, gallops toward the fence line.
I try to guide her back, but by now she’s in full-blown panic mode. She races farther off the road until my leg explodes in pain, dragging alongside the barky fence, which soon claws me off Cookie’s back.
13
Nellie
I couldn’t stay cooped up in the house for one second longer, so I bolted, went to buy some smokes.
I get them on the edge of town at a little mom-and-pop gas station, where they don’t card me for alcohol. I’m sure it helps that I always slap an extra twenty in the old man’s hand, but he’s at least a hundred, so he’s not giving a fuck about anything anymore.
I got a carton of Marlboros and a six-pack of Coors Light, then took off driving the back roads, chain-smoking, sipping beer.
